


The Teddy Bear

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Coming of Age, Friendship, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Grantaire was in fifth grade and Enjolras was in first, they promised they would be best friends forever. Some things have changed since then; some never will. (Pre-E/R)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Teddy Bear

**Author's Note:**

> An amalgamation of three separate one-shots (two of which were five-sentence fics) into one longer one-shot.
> 
> Started out as a request for age-difference, went from there.
> 
> I did not put a warning on for underage because nothing romantic or sexual happens while their underaged (to be fair, nothing romantic or sexual really happens at all in this, but, you know).
> 
> Usual disclaimer - I own nothing but the typos, numerous as they probably are.

Enjolras flopped down face-first on his now-bare mattress, groaning loudly. “Packing is the worst,” he whined, voice muffled by the mattress. “Remind me never to do it again. I didn’t want to go to university this badly, I swear.”

Combeferre chuckled lightly as he perched next to Enjolras. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said, polishing his glasses on his t-shirt. “Besides, once you get settled, you’re just going to have to pack at the end of the year to move into an apartment or a different dorm room.”

“Very tactful, Ferre,” Courfeyrac laughed as Enjolras groaned even louder.

Grabbing a spare pillow, Combeferre threw it at Courferyrac, who dodged it easily, still laughing. “Hey, at least I wasn’t the one who spent the last hour moaning about a stubbed toe.”

Courfeyrac reached for a pillow to throw back in retaliation, but instead his hand closed on a dingy-looking stuffed bear that had somehow escaped being packed in one of the many boxes that littered the room. “What’s this?” he asked gleefully, looking far too delighted.

“What’s what?” snapped Enjolras, rolling over. His face whitened when he saw what Courfeyrac had grabbed. “Give that back.”

“Aww, is Enjolras missing his whittle bear?” Courfeyrac sniggered.

Enjolras’s voice was deathly quiet when he repeated firmly, “Courfeyrac, give it back.”

Though Courfeyrac still looked gleeful, and was about to say more, he stopped when Combeferre said, in a soft voice, “Courf. Don’t.”

So he held the bear out to Enjolras, who snatched it back, something like panic in his eyes, and just for a moment he cradled the bear the way he must have when he was a child, pressed to his chest, the little bear’s face smooshed against him. Then he blinked, his expression instantly relaxing, and without a second look at the bear, he tossed it into one of the open boxes.

They settled into small talk as they waited for Enjolras’s parents to be ready to pack the car, and when Courfeyrac went downstairs to grab a snack, Combeferre turned to Enjolras, barely restrained curiosity written across his face. “Forgive me for asking, but what’s with the bear?”

“It’s nothing,” said Enjolras instantly, though his face took on an odd, closed expression and his eyes became distant. “It’s…a memory. Of someone who I…someone who I used to be very close to.” He blinked and looked down. “It doesn’t matter,” he said in a low voice. “It was a very long time ago.”

* * *

 

It had never bothered them in elementary school, though perhaps it should have, a fifth-grader playing with a first-grader. But Enjolras was no normal first grader (and would end up skipping second grade all together), and Grantaire, always a little quiet and withdrawn, scrawny for his age, was also no normal fifth-grader.

For the entire year, they played together on the playground, which is to say they mostly sat together on the playground and argued, Enjolras following Grantaire around like an extremely vocal puppy. Grantaire helped Enjolras with his homework or his reading when he needed it (which wasn’t often, but sometimes Enjolras would pretend, because he liked when Grantaire helped him). Enjolras got special permission to bring Grantaire in for show-and-tell one day, telling the class excitedly, “This is my bestest friend in the whole entire world.”

Of course, nothing was meant to last forever, even the best year that either of them could remember (the best year that either would have for a long time).

Enjolras sat on the swings on the playground after school, not swinging, just staring dejectedly at the ground. It was the last day of first grade, which should have been exciting, but it was also the last day he would share in school with Grantaire, who was going to be in sixth grade next year and going to the middle school. Their friendship was far from ordinary, but neither boy minded much. In fact, each was each other’s only friend, which meant that instead of looking forward to the summer like a normal kid, Enjolras was mostly trying not to cry.

He saw Grantaire walking across the playground toward him, hands in his pocket, backpack slung across one shoulder like normal, wearing jeans with a tear in one knee and the same scuffed, falling-apart sneakers he had worn all year, and felt his lip start wobbling, trying his best to keep from crying. “Hey,” said Grantaire upon reaching him, plopping down on the swing next to him.

“Hey,” repeated Enjolras weakly.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “Are you going to cry?”

Shaking his head quickly, Enjolras said fiercely, “No!”, even as he scrubbed a hand across his cheeks to catch a few errant tears.

“Hey, it’s ok,” said Grantaire quietly, swiveling the swing around to face him. “You can cry, if you want. I won’t tell.”

Though Enjolras nodded, he fixed his gaze in the distance, knowing that if he looked over at Grantaire, he really would start crying. “I just…I’m really gonna miss you, Taire.”

“I know,” said Grantaire, his own voice rough. “And I’m really, really going to miss you, too. Which is why I brought you something.”

Enjolras turned to look at him, curiosity outweighing his sadness for the moment. Grantaire unzipped his backpack and pulled out a stuffed bear with its mouth stitched in a permanent smile, the ribbon around his neck bearing a small tag that was engraved simply with the letter “R”. “Here,” said Grantaire, not meeting Enjolras’s eyes as he thrust the bear at him. “Take him. This is my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” said Enjolras, a little petulantly, though he accepted the bear, holding him stiffly in his lap.

Grantaire smiled crookedly. “My best friend besides you, dummy.” His gaze slid over to the bear, his smile turning fond. “I’ve had that bear since I was little - littler even than you. He’s gotten me through some really rough times.” Enjolras’s eyes met his, and neither needed to expand upon what those rough times were: Grantaire had come to school with more bruises and broken bones than any fifth grader should, and Enjolras knew from Grantaire more about how much it was possible to fear one’s home life than any first grader should. “I want you to take care of him. You’re going to need someone, and I think he can help you.”

Enjolras bit his lip and looked down at the bear, automatically pulling him a little bit closer. “Won’t you need him?” he asked quietly, though he seemed reluctant to give the bear back.

“Of course not,” said Grantaire bracingly, though his smile slipped for a moment. “I’m going to be in middle school. I don’t need a teddy bear anymore.” His smile returned as he reached out to ruffle first the bear’s ears, then Enjolras’s hair. “Just take care of him for me until you have me back, ok?”

“I will,” Enjolras promised, solemnly, standing up to give Grantaire a fierce hug. “I’m still going to miss you more than anything in the world.”

Grantaire closed his eyes as he hugged Enjolras back. “I know,” he said quietly. “But it’s ok. We’re going to be friends forever.”

* * *

 

But time has a way of separating, particularly those no longer bound by proximity, and while Enjolras made new friends in third grade (Combeferre and Courfeyrac, two of his best friends still to that day), Grantaire had to face middle school by himself. He alone dealt with the torture and torment of his peers, and being alone, he turned to drastic measures, to alcohol and to cutting and to isolating himself even further from his classmates. He withdrew into himself, knowing that he was everything they labeled him as – a loser, worthless, a _freak_.

Enjolras did not see Grantaire again until he was a freshman in high school, and by that point, he barely recognized the kid he had once told he would miss more than anything in the world. Of course, Enjolras was also dealing with problems of his own.

Someone shoved Enjolras against the lockers, causing him to drop all of the books he was carrying. “Freak,” the guy hissed at him, laughing as Enjolras quickly scrambled to pick the books up again, his face flaming.

It was only his third week of high school and Enjolras had already been labeled a freak by the other students, which was perhaps only fair, since Enjolras was only twelve years old and scrawny, even for his age (his growth spurt was a few years off still, by which time he would be so thoroughly condemned as a freak that none of his classmates would even notice that the ‘little kid’ they had tormented was now anything but). The abuse from the upperclassmen was expected, but was starting to wear on his nerves.

As more students joined in the tittering laughter, a low voice cut across the crowd, saying, “Leave him alone.” Enjolras looked up, surprised to see Grantaire aceoss the hall, standing in front of his locker (the same locker, Enjolras realized with a sort of painful feeling in his chest, that he had seen the word ‘fag’ scrawled across not even a week ago). All his statement did was mostly turn the laughter away from Enjolras and onto Grantaire, who just looked at everyone with a tired, bored expression on his face.

It did give Enjolras enough time to gather his things and stand, almost cautiously, raising his eyes to meet Grantaire’s. For a second Enjolras and Grantaire just stared at each other, and Enjolras thought, wondered, even briefly hoped for just a moment that maybe things could go back to the way they were before, those days he remembered so fondly, even if they were a long time past. Because Grantaire had been his best friend back then, and Enjolras back then had been young enough to believe that nothing could change that (and was young enough now to still hope, still wish that it was true).

But then Grantaire looked away, the moment broken, and slammed his locker shut before slumping away down the hallway, not looking back at Enjolras, who just stared after him.

When Grantaire passed by a group of girls, they giggled, looking over at him and fake-whispering, “Loser!”, laughing at the way his thin shoulders tensed under his black hoodie. Enjolras, still standing against the lockers, books still clutched against his chest, felt torn between running after him and just plain running away.

A small part of him wondered just how much of this kind of torment Grantaire had had to go through to get to the point where he was. For a brief moment, Enjolras wondered what it must have been like for him, but then another older student shouldered into Enjolras, causing him to drop all of his book yet again, and Enjolras thought bitterly that he knew exactly what it must have been like.

Of course, later on in the cafeteria, when he was relaying his morning to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, joined by Joly, who had biology with Combeferre, and Jehan, who was in English with Courf, Enjolras happened to see Grantaire, sitting alone at a table in the corner. Grantaire sipped from a hipflask when the lunch room monitor was looking the other way, and Enjolras, surrounded by his friends who supported him and comforted him and were just plain there for him, realized that he had no idea what it must have been like for Grantaire, and his heart twisted painfully once again.

That night, for the first night in a long time, Enjolras took the teddy bear off of its place on the shelf and into bed with him, holding it tightly as if he would never let it go.

* * *

 

Fourteen years after that teddy bear changed hands, Grantaire and Enjolras were anything but friends, drifting apart from the ravages of time and a life that was cruel to Grantaire, and Grantaire, who was cruel to life. When they did cross paths again after high school, Enjolras was a junior in college, ready to change the world, while Grantaire was loafing through his seventh year of on-again, off-again art school, drinking far too much, staying up all night, making what could only be described as regrettable life choices.

One night, when out with his friends, Enjolras noticed Grantaire sitting alone at a bar, staring off into space, and after a long moment of indecision, Enjolras sat down across from him. Grantaire blinked wearily up at him, gave him a half-smile, and muttered, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Enjolras returned, feeling like the words were woefully inadequate for being the first they had directly spoken to each other in fourteen years. There were a million questions that Enjolras wanted to ask him, what he had been doing with his life, more importantly, _why_ he had been doing it, what Grantaire had planned for the future, if anything, and why…just…why…

Grantaire’s eyes searched Enjolras’s face as if he could see the question written there plainly, and just smiled tightly, drained his drink, and said hoarsely, “You’re fourteen years too late to fix anything, Enj, so don’t even try.”

He was right, of course, though Enjolras didn’t so much as want to try and fix things as he wanted to just start over, because a part of Enjolras had been missing since that day at the end of first grade when Grantaire had left. And maybe Grantaire wasn’t the only one a little bit broken, the only one who had needed someone by his side for fourteen years.

He didn’t say any of this, of course, just nodded, and scribbled his address on a napkin. “If you ever want to talk…” he said, trailing off, shoving the napkin across the table to Grantaire before standing and striding away.

Now, in the present, Grantaire stood outside Enjolras’s apartment, poised to knock on the door, wanting to knock, but not wanting to, unsure if he should have taken Enjolras up on his quiet offer to come by so that they could talk.

As it was, he didn’t have to make the decision, as Enjolras wrenched the door open, head down, hoodie clenched in one hand, and walked right into Grantaire. “Ow,” said Grantaire, though amusement colored his voice more than anything.

“Grantaire!” Enjolras practically gasped, clearly surprised. “I, um…wow. Hi. I wasn’t expected you.”

Grantaire flushed slightly and coughed. “Um, yeah, I just. I wanted to come by. You said to, if…if I wanted to talk. But you’re clearly on your way out, so I’ll just…I’ll just go.”

Enjolras reached out to grab Grantaire’s arm and stop him from leaving. “Wait,” he commanded, voice quiet. “I’m not going anywhere. Nowhere important anyway. And we…we should talk.”

He held the door open for Grantaire, waiting for him to come in the apartment, which Grantaire did, albeit reluctantly. Grantaire glanced around the studio apartment, eyes widening. “I’ll admit, I expected something a bit grander than this,” he said, purposefully lightening his tone.

Though Enjolras’s brow furrowed, he too relaxed. “Well, it is only me that lives here,” he said, tone matching Grantaire’s. “And I don’t need a whole lot for just me.”

“Still, I would have expected your parents would have gotten you something bigger.”

Enjolras’s face tightened. “I don’t speak with my parents anymore,” he said stiffly. “We haven’t spoken since my first year of college, when I came out as gay.”

Grantaire looked stricken. “I’m sorry,” he said, completely sincere. “I had no idea. Really.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me now,” said Enjolras, an edge to his voice. “A lot that you don’t know I’ve been through. It’s been fourteen years, Grantaire.”

Snorting slightly, Grantaire sat down on the edge of Enjolras’s bed for lack of any other place to sit. “There’s a lot I’ve been through in the past fourteen years, too,” he told Enjolras, his voice hardening. “A lot of shit.”

Enjolras’s voice was quiet when he replied, “I don’t doubt that, Grantaire. And I’d like if you told me about it. I want to know what’s happened to you. I want to be a part of your life again, the way that I used to be.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t ignore the sudden longing that rose in his chest. He glanced around and started when he saw what was perched on top of Enjolras’s pillows. His heart seemed to pound in his chest as he reached out to grab the teddy bear with trembling fingers. “Enj—” he started, voice catching in his throat.

Enjolras’s eyes met his and Grantaire was surprised by the emotions that whorled within them. Grantaire had to blush and look away. “You still have him?” he asked quietly, something indefinable in his voice.

“Of course,” said Enjolras, equally quiet. “You told me to take care of him until I have you back.”

Grantaire’s grip on the bear tightened. “I did say that, didn’t I?” he said, almost to himself, smiling just slightly, just enough to bring a small smile to Enjolras’s face as well.

“Yeah, you did,” said Enjolras, leaning against the wall as he looked fondly at the small bear in Grantaire’s hands. “And I have to thank you, because there were some days when I think I only got through because of that bear.”

Smiling slightly, Grantaire ruffled the bear’s ears. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

Enjolras bit his lip as he looked at him, something strange crossing his face before he asked hoarsely, “Do you…do you want to take him back?”

Grantaire looked up at him, surprised. “Of course not,” he said, instantly. At Enjolras’s raised eyebrow, he blushed slightly, dropping his gaze back to the bear. “You still need him,” he said quietly in answer to Enjolras’s unasked question.

“What about you?” Enjolras asked, voice pitched low. “Don’t you need him?”

Grantaire laughed slightly. “I’ve never needed a teddy bear, Enjolras,” he said, entirely truthful, setting the bear back on Enjolras’s bed before he raised his eyes to meet Enjolras’s. “I’ve only ever needed you.”


End file.
